Mrs. Warren’s Profession · Act II (2/2) (1/3)
The cottage door opens, showing a fine starlit night without; and Mrs. Warren, her shoulders wrapped in a shawl borrowed from Vivie, enters, followed by Frank. She has had enough of walking, and gives a gasp of relief as she unpins her hat; takes it off; sticks the pin through the crown; and puts it on the table.
Mrs. Warren O Lord! I don’t know which is the worst of the country, the walking or the sitting at home with nothing to do. I could do with a whisky and soda now very well, if only they had such a thing in the place.
Frank Helping her to take off her shawl, and giving her shoulders the most delicate possible little caress with his fingers as he does so. Perhaps Vivie’s got some.
Mrs. Warren Glancing back at him for an instant from the corner of her eye as she detects the pressure. Nonsense! What would a young girl like her be doing with such things! Never mind: it don’t matter. She throws herself wearily into a chair at the table. I wonder how she passes her time here! I’d a good deal rather be in Vienna.
Frank Let me take you there. He folds the shawl neatly; hangs it on the back of the other chair; and sits down opposite Mrs. Warren.
Mrs. Warren Get out! I’m beginning to think you’re a chip of the old block.
Frank Like the gov’nor, eh?
Mrs. Warren Never you mind. What do you know about such things? You’re only a boy.
Frank Do come to Vienna with me? It’d be ever such larks.
Mrs. Warren No, thank you. Vienna is no place for you⁠—at least not until you’re a little older. She nods at him to emphasize this piece of advice. He makes a mock-piteous face, belied by his laughing eyes. She looks at him; then rises and goes to him. Now, look here, little boy: taking his face in her hands and turning it up to her I know you through and through by your likeness to your father, better than you know yourself. Don’t you go taking any silly ideas into your head about me. Do you hear?
Frank Gallantly wooing her with his voice. Can’t help it, my dear Mrs. Warren: it runs in the family. She pretends to box his ears; then looks at the pretty laughing, upturned face of a moment, tempted. At last she kisses him, and immediately turns away, out of patience with herself.
Mrs. Warren There! I shouldn’t have done that. I am wicked. Never you mind, my dear: it’s only a motherly kiss. Go and make love to Vivie.
Frank So I have.
Mrs. Warren Turning on him with a sharp note of alarm in her voice. What!
Frank Vivie and I are ever such chums.
Mrs. Warren What do you mean? Now, see here: I won’t have any young scamp tampering with my little girl. Do you hear? I won’t have it.
Frank Quite unabashed. My dear Mrs. Warren: don’t you be alarmed. My intentions are honorable: ever so honorable; and your little girl is jolly well able to take care of herself. She don’t need looking after half so much as her mother. She ain’t so handsome, you know.
Mrs. Warren Taken aback by his assurance. Well, you have got a nice healthy two inches of cheek all over you. I don’t know where you got it⁠—not from your father, anyhow. Voices and footsteps in the porch. Sh! I hear the others coming in. She sits down hastily. Remember: you’ve got your warning. The Rev. Samuel Gardner comes in, followed by Crofts. Well, what became of you two? And where’s Praddy and Vivie?
Crofts Putting his hat on the settle and his stick in the chimney corner. They went up the hill. We went to the village. I wanted a drink. He sits down on the settle, putting his legs up along the seat.
Mrs. Warren Well, she oughtn’t to go off like that without telling me. To Frank. Get your father a chair, Frank: where are your manners? Frank* springs up and gracefully offers his father his chair; then takes another from the wall and sits down at the table, in the middle, with his father on his right and Mrs. Warren* on his left. George: where are you going to stay tonight? You can’t stay here. And what’s Praddy going to do?
Crofts Gardner’ll put me up.
Mrs. Warren Oh, no doubt you’ve taken care of yourself! But what about Praddy?
Crofts Don’t know. I suppose he can sleep at the inn.
Mrs. Warren Haven’t you room for him, Sam?
Rev. S. Well, er⁠—you see, as rector here, I am not free to do as I like exactly. Er⁠—what is Mr. Praed’s social position?
Mrs. Warren Oh, he’s all right: he’s an architect. What an old stick-in-the-mud you are, Sam!
Frank Yes, it’s all right, gov’nor. He built that place down in Monmouthshire for the Duke of Beaufort⁠—Tintern Abbey they call it. You must have heard of it. He winks with lightning smartness at Mrs. Warren, and regards his father blandly.
Rev. S. Oh, in that case, of course we shall only be too happy. I suppose he knows the Duke of Beaufort personally.
Frank Oh, ever so intimately! We can stick him in Georgina’s old room.
Mrs. Warren Well, that’s settled. Now, if those two would only come in and let us have supper. They’ve no right to stay out after dark like this.
Crofts Aggressively. What harm are they doing you?
Mrs. Warren Well, harm or not, I don’t like it.
Frank Better not wait for them, Mrs. Warren. Praed will stay out as long as possible. He has never known before what it is to stray over the heath on a summer night with my Vivie.
Crofts Sitting up in some consternation. I say, you know. Come!
Rev. S. Startled out of his professional manner into real force and sincerity. Frank, once and for all, it’s out of the question. Mrs. Warren will tell you that it’s not to be thought of.
Crofts Of course not.
Frank With enchanting placidity. Is that so, Mrs. Warren?
Mrs. Warren Reflectively. Well, Sam, I don’t know. If the girl wants to get married, no good can come of keeping her unmarried.
Rev. S. Astounded. But married to him!⁠—your daughter to my son! Only think: it’s impossible.
Crofts Of course it’s impossible. Don’t be a fool, Kitty.
Mrs. Warren Nettled. Why not? Isn’t my daughter good enough for your son?
Rev. S. But surely, my dear Mrs. Warren, you know the reason⁠—
Mrs. Warren Defiantly. I know no reasons. If you know any, you can tell them to the lad, or to the girl, or to your congregation, if you like.
Rev. S. Helplessly. You know very well that I couldn’t tell anyone the reasons. But my boy will believe me when I tell him there are reasons.
Frank Quite right, Dad: he will. But has your boy’s conduct ever been influenced by your reasons?
Crofts You can’t marry her; and that’s all about it. He gets up and stands on the hearth, with his back to the fireplace, frowning determinedly.
Mrs. Warren Turning on him sharply. What have you got to do with it, pray?
Frank With his prettiest lyrical cadence. Precisely what I was going to ask, myself, in my own graceful fashion.
Crofts To Mrs. Warren. I suppose you don’t want to marry the girl to a man younger than herself and without either a profession or twopence to keep her on. Ask Sam, if you don’t believe me. To the Rev. S.** How much more money are you going to give him?
Rev. S. Not another penny. He has had his patrimony; and he spent the last of it in July. Mrs. Warren’s face falls.
Crofts Watching her. There! I told you. He resumes his place on the settle and puts up his legs on the seat again, as if the matter were finally disposed of.
Frank Plaintively. This is ever so mercenary. Do you suppose Miss Warren’s going to marry for money? If we love one another⁠—
Mrs. Warren Thank you. Your love’s a pretty cheap commodity, my lad. If you have no means of keeping a wife, that settles it; you can’t have Vivie.
Frank Much amused. What do you say, gov’nor, eh?
Rev. S. I agree with Mrs. Warren.
Frank And good old Crofts has already expressed his opinion.
Crofts Turning angrily on his elbow. Look here: I want none of your cheek.
Frank Pointedly. I’m ever so sorry to surprise you, Crofts; but you allowed yourself the liberty of speaking to me like a father a moment ago. One father is enough, thank you.
Crofts Contemptuously. Yah! He turns away again.
Frank Rising. Mrs. Warren: I cannot give my Vivie up even for your sake.
Mrs. Warren Muttering. Young scamp!
Frank Continuing. And as you no doubt intend to hold out other prospects to her, I shall lose no time in placing my case before her. They stare at him; and he begins to declaim gracefully. He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
The cottage doors open whilst he is reciting; and Vivie and Praed come in. He breaks off. Praed puts his hat on the dresser. There is an immediate improvement in the company’s behavior. Crofts takes down his legs from the settle and pulls himself together as Praed joins him at the fireplace. Mrs. Warren loses her ease of manner and takes refuge in querulousness.
Mrs. Warren Wherever have you been, Vivie?
Vivie Taking off her hat and throwing it carelessly on the table. On the hill.
Mrs. Warren Well, you shouldn’t go off like that without letting me know. How could I tell what had become of you? And night coming on too!
Vivie Going to the door of the kitchen and opening it, ignoring her mother. Now, about supper? We shall be rather crowded in here, I’m afraid.
Mrs. Warren Did you hear what I said, Vivie?
Vivie Quietly. Yes, mother. Reverting to the supper difficulty. How many are we? Counting. One, two, three, four, five, six. Well, two will have to wait until the rest are done: Mrs. Alison has only plates and knives for four.
Praed Oh, it doesn’t matter about me. I⁠—
Vivie You have had a long walk and are hungry, Mr. Praed: you shall have your supper at once. I can wait myself. I want one person to wait with me. Frank: are you hungry?
Frank Not the least in the world⁠—completely off my peck, in fact.
Mrs. Warren To Crofts. Neither are you, George. You can wait.
Crofts Oh, hang it, I’ve eaten nothing since teatime. Can’t Sam do it?
Frank Would you starve my poor father?
Rev. S. Testily. Allow me to speak for myself, sir. I am perfectly willing to wait.
Vivie Decisively. There’s no need. Only two are wanted. She opens the door of the inner room. Will you take my mother in, Mr. Gardner. The Rev. S. takes Mrs. Warren; and they pass into the next room. Praed and Crofts follow. All except Praed clearly disapprove of the arrangement, but do not know how to resist it. Vivie stands at the door looking in at them. Can you squeeze past to that corner, Mr. Praed: it’s rather a tight fit. Take care of your coat against the whitewash⁠—that’s right. Now, are you all comfortable?
Praed Within. Quite, thank you.
Mrs. Warren Within. Leave the door open, dearie. Frank* looks at Vivie; then steals to the cottage door and softly sets it wide open. Oh Lor’, what a draught! You’d better shut it, dear. Vivie shuts it promptly. Frank* noiselessly shuts the cottage door.
Frank Exulting. Aha! Got rid of ’em. Well, Vivvums: what do you think of my governor!
Vivie Preoccupied and serious. I’ve hardly spoken to him. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly able person.
Frank Well, you know, the old man is not altogether such a fool as he looks. You see, he’s rector here; and in trying to live up to it he makes a much bigger ass of himself than he really is. No, the gov’nor ain’t so bad, poor old chap; and I don’t dislike him as much as you might expect. He means well. How do you think you’ll get on with him?
Vivie Rather grimly. I don’t think my future life will be much concerned with him, or with any of that old circle of my mother’s, except perhaps Praed. What do you think of my mother?
Frank Really and truly?
Vivie Yes, really and truly.
Frank Well, she’s ever so jolly. But she’s rather a caution, isn’t she? And Crofts! Oh, my eye, Crofts!
Vivie What a lot, Frank!
Frank What a crew!
Vivie With intense contempt for them. If I thought that I was like that⁠—that I was going to be a waster, shifting along from one meal to another with no purpose, and no character, and no grit in me, I’d open an artery and bleed to death without one moment’s hesitation.
Frank Oh no, you wouldn’t. Why should they take any grind when they can afford not to? I wish I had their luck. No: what I object to is their form. It isn’t the thing: it’s slovenly, ever so slovenly.
Vivie Do you think your form will be any better when you’re as old as Crofts, if you don’t work?
Frank Of course I do⁠—ever so much better. Vivvums mustn’t lecture: her little boy’s incorrigible. He attempts to take her face caressingly in his hands.
Vivie Striking his hands down sharply. Off with you: Vivvums is not in a humor for petting her little boy this evening.
Frank How unkind!
Vivie Stamping at him. Be serious. I’m serious.
Frank Good. Let us talk learnedly. Miss Warren: do you know that all the most advanced thinkers are agreed that half the diseases of modern civilization are due to starvation of the affections of the young. Now, I⁠—
Vivie Cutting him short. You are getting tiresome. She opens the inner door. Have you room for Frank there? He’s complaining of starvation.
Mrs. Warren Within. Of course there is. Clatter of knives and glasses as she moves the things on the table. Here: there’s room now beside me. Come along, Mr. Frank.
Frank Aside to Vivie, as he goes. Her little boy will be ever so even with his Vivvums for this. He goes into the other room.
Mrs. Warren Within. Here, Vivie: come on, you too, child. You must be famished. She enters, followed by Crofts, who holds the door open with marked deference. She goes out without looking at him; and he shuts the door after her. Why George, you can’t be done: you’ve eaten nothing.
Crofts Oh, all I wanted was a drink. He thrusts his hands in his pockets, and begins prowling about the room, restless and sulky.
Mrs. Warren Well, I like enough to eat. But a little of that cold beef and cheese and lettuce goes a long way. With a sigh of only half repletion she sits down lazily at the table.
Crofts What do you go encouraging that young pup for?
Mrs. Warren On the alert at once. Now see here, George: what are you up to about that girl? I’ve been watching your way of looking at her. Remember: I know you and what your looks mean.
Crofts There’s no harm in looking at her, is there?
Mrs. Warren I’d put you out and pack you back to London pretty soon if I saw any of your nonsense. My girl’s little finger is more to me than your whole body and soul. Crofts* receives this with a sneering grin. Mrs. Warren*, flushing a little at her failure to impose on him in the character of a theatrically devoted mother, adds in a lower key: Make your mind easy, the young pup has no more chance than you have.
Crofts Mayn’t a man take an interest in a girl?
Mrs. Warren Not a man like you.
Crofts How old is she?
Mrs. Warren Never you mind how old she is.
Crofts Why do you make such a secret of it?
Mrs. Warren Because I choose.
Crofts Well, I’m not fifty yet; and my property is as good as it ever was⁠—
Mrs. Warren Interrupting him. Yes; because you’re as stingy as you’re vicious.